


pick my petals off

by chinarai



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Modern Royalty, Sugar Baby AU, flower shop au, not really no but Zelda leaves him good tips, tp zelink, very good tips, zelink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-06-21 08:03:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15553260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinarai/pseuds/chinarai
Summary: A beautiful woman that leaves wealthy tips snatches Link’s heart in their first encounter.“I am looking for another arrangement, though. What do you have for me today?”Everything, if you want.She can even take the little cacti by the cash register that he loves if she so wants, he will gladly place the little clay vase in her hands and see her out the door. It’s stupid how infatuated he is with someone he doesn’t even know, but he was bound to fall hard for someone at some point - it had to be with his richest client, it seems.





	1. seasons come and go

**Author's Note:**

> I got to a part in Antumbra that I can't really work with, so instead of just waiting for time to do its magic, I decided to work on this little thing I've been entertaining for a while. I don't plan for this to be too long - three to five chapters max. The next chapter of Antumbra is finished actually, but I like to post it once the following one is halfway done. I'll post it next week anyway, whether I manage to get through that or not. 
> 
> All titles are from Marina and the Diamonds - Froot.
> 
> Enjoy!

Today is a slow day, but Link can’t really complain as it gives him some peace and quiet to study. Perched on a stool behind the counter, he plays with locks of his hair and chews on his lip, flipping through an art history book, but most of his concentration is really focused on the notepad by the side and the random lines he draws. 

A mug of coffee is set to his right, freshly brewed by Bo before he left to run errands some minutes ago, but it’s lukewarm at best now. It did little to keep his drowsiness at bay and he’s been fighting it for half an hour now, precisely the moment he retrieved the book from his backpack. Unsurprising, really, that he’s more interested in coloring random shapes he’s drawn in his attempt to study for an assignment due by the end of the week. 

Link closes the book and pushes it away, stretches until a bone pops and a groan leaves his lips, and stands from the stool to find anything to do at the shop. He presses his digits to the soil in vases, checking their humidity and gauging if they need watering, shuffles some flowers away from the display windows so all of them can get equal amounts of light and rearranges the succulent stand until he’s content with another arrangement. He likes it here, working in Bo’s flower shop and splitting shifts with his childhood friend and his boss’s daughter, Ilia. It’s mostly quiet, he gets to meet a lot of new people, and most importantly, he’s surrounded by nature all day long. 

It’s a source of joy, if he’s allowed to say so, seeing people leaving here with a pretty bundle of flowers made by himself, a smile on their faces. Of course, he’s had his share of seeing people coming and going with red rimmed eyes and trembling fingers, but it isn’t his place to pry and ask what’s wrong, and he tries not to wonder what’s wrong. It’s part of the job, seeing both happiness and sadness. 

When sweeping the floor isn’t enough to squash his urge to sleep, Link disappears into a room in the back and looks through the cooler for flowers to use in a new arrangement. Pairing blossoms never fails to keep him wired and it’s exactly what he needs before his shift is over in an hour and he has to switch places with Ilia and go to class. They got a new batch of gladiolus yesterday, an unique shade of coral pink, and he’s been trying to find flowers that will go beautifully with them. 

Some other time, he decides, returning the flowers to the vases when the bell above the door chimes gently to announce a new arrival. He tugs at the forest green apron, brushes his fingers over the name tag and steps out to greet his customer, only to have his tongue tie itself in a knot and words die in his throat. 

She is... Well, she’s beautiful. Easily taller than him, even without her short heels, but Link himself isn’t a tall guy so it’s not surprising. Chestnut hair tied back in a high ponytail, manicured hands and simple jewelry on her fingers and wrists, deep blue dress that stops just above her knees. She’s studying a large arrangement inside the floral refrigerator, roses, peonies, chrysanthemums and more, all in pretty pastel tones.  He thinks it will fit her house nicely, if it’s as charming as she is. 

“Hello,” he finds his voice at some point, some minutes after watching her analyze the flowers. “Welcome to Ordona Flowers. Can I help you?” 

Her eyes, wow, her eyes are blue, darker than his own, framed by thick lashes, and her mouth is painted a pretty shade of pink and he tries hard not to stare. It tugs into a slight smile, though, polite and friendly enough to make her serious features crack. “I was going to ask for help, but I already found what I wanted.” 

“That’s a great choice,” he’s walking over, opening the door and taking the vase so she can inspect it from up close. “I put it together this morning. Probably my favorite from this week, and it isn’t over yet.” 

He’s rambling - Goddesses, he’s rambling and smiling tremulously after he notices it, but she doesn’t seem to mind, enamored as she is with the flowers. “You are very talented -” her eyes flicker to his tag - “Mr. Link. I will take this, please.”

Link wants to tell her she doesn’t need to be so formal - really, just Link is fine - but she meets his eyes and that small smile is there again and his insides turn to goo. Mechanically, he walks over to the counter and dries the stems as best as he can before wrapping it up with paper; in the meantime, she lets her gaze roam over big vases of caladium to the side of the shop. The arrangement is large and thus is expensive, he tells her so, and she doesn’t bat an eyelash as she takes a thin wallet from her purse and presents him with a brand new hundred bill. 

It’s expensive, but not that expensive. Again, he tells her that. 

“Keep the change.” She insists, cradling the flowers in her arms like they’re precious. “For your tip jar.” 

He’s left speechless, watching as she slips into the backseat of a sleek, polished black car that’s been waiting for her, the chauffeur closing the door. Link only blinks when the car has driven away, out of his sight, and looks down at the bill still at a loss of what to do. They don’t even have a tip jar. 

* * *

Explaining to both Ilia and Bo how he got his hands on a hundred rupees when the arrangement cost only eighty is more taxing than figuring out that assignment he was neglecting that day. Ilia eyes the bill suspiciously like it could be fake, and Bo racks his brain for anyone that fits her description and that is rich enough to pull that off, but in the end reaches no conclusion. A little more money never hurts, but they can’t quite get over the fact that the tip was worth just as much as one of their simpler arrangements. 

A week later, it’s getting colder outside and Link is trying to put together a centerpiece for an upcoming event, an audio book playing in the sole earbud stuck in his ear. He plucks away an orchid, a fake one made of silk that they keep around for this purpose, taps it against his chin and twirls the vase this way and that, trying to figure out why this piece doesn’t seem good enough. He’s still thinking of the gladiolus they got days ago, at the few that remaining close to withering that he hasn’t yet gotten around to work with. Sometimes inspiration takes that time strike, and it sucks that he has art blocks both in college and at work. 

Link pushes the attempt at an arrangement away, sprawls on the counter, cheek on his bicep, frustration seeping in. Today isn’t his day, it seems, he must have gotten out of bed on the wrong side, which is impossible because he actually sleeps on the fold-out couch in the living room, but nothing is working on his favor. He’s annoyed and the discarded sketchbook in his backpack is just another reminder of today’s failures. 

Gaze to the ceiling, he doesn’t bother to pick himself up from the counter and asks, begs,  _ please Hylia, I know I haven’t set foot in a temple in years, but please, grant me this _ . His prayers are answered with the smooth voice coming from the earbud, which he rips off in one of his rare bouts of irritation. It clearly isn’t helping. 

The bell rings and he bolts upright, sends a quick  _ thank you _ to the skies when he sees  _ her _ there looking at a golden pothos dangling from the ceiling to the side of the door. She touches its leaves delicately and Link knows that plant is never going to wither for it’s just been blessed. He takes her in, black pencil skirt and white linen shirt, heels, a purse dangling from the crook of her elbow, hair pinned up in a bun, nude lipstick. Dark blue eyes find him and he’s suddenly nailed to the spot. Link entertains the idea that she must not be human. 

“Hello, miss.” He says, voice surprisingly steady. “How can I help you?” 

She approaches the counter, heels clacking, somewhat out of place in a flower shop - she seems like the kind that fits better surrounded by golds and crystals and champagne glasses - but looks so beautiful here. “Hello. I would like another arrangement, please.” 

He swipes a hand to the floral refrigerator, tells her to follow him. “Of course. Were you looking for something specific?” 

“Not really, no.” Already, her eyes are sweeping over the flowers in display. He hopes she finds any of them worthy of her time. “Tell me about this one.” 

Link follows the line of her nail - a sharp little thing painted a brownish color, tapping the glass - to the arrangement white, pink and peach in question, the product of a restless night. “There are orchids, roses, lisianthus, hydrangeas and gloriosa lilies. They arrived yesterday, so they’re fresh.”

She hums, and he sends a quick mental reassurance to the flowers, because they’re great and lovely. “I will take it.” 

It’s the same old ritual, and he’s a pro at it, wrapping them up in tissue paper and trading them for two crisp hundred bills that weight oddly heavy in his hand. Her smile lasts for just about a second before she bids him goodbye and leaves the shop, walking along the flow of pedestrians outside, no sleek black car in sight today. 

Link looks down at the bills, and then looks some more until he could swear he could burn a hole through them. Instead, he only brushes his thumbs across the gravure of a gemstone before sticking them in the cash register. 

* * *

Two weeks later and Bo is climbing up the walls of their apartment above the shop, wanting to know how Link got his hands in not only one, not two, but three hundred rupee bills, laid out on the dinner table like they’re poisonous or might explode. Ilia squints at them, hands on her hips, the same look she fixes him with when he doesn’t fold the couch back or leave the living room like it had been a victim of a tornado with pillows and blankets strewn about. 

Link, on his part, has nothing to offer them. Mystery Woman has yet to tell him her name and, by some work of destiny, she only comes around when Link is alone in the flower shop. He doesn’t think she’s keeping tabs on him - she looks too important and busy for that - so, really, it has to be a coincidence since she comes on different days at different times. There’s no pattern. He’ll be lying, though, if he says that he doesn’t make the prettiest arrangements on purpose, knowing she’ll take a liking to them and will want to take them home. The last one had been ridiculously large with their best flowers, not pastel colored by all means, but beautiful nonetheless - and she purchased it. 

Bo suggests to take a picture so they’ll know. Link thinks he’s joking - hopes he’s joking, and Ilia scoffs, reaches for the bills and tells her father to concentrate on setting the table before the food goes cold. 

Having a picture of her around is tantalizing, but knowing him, he might just take a picture with the flash on or something that will make him a fool of himself, so that’s a no. 

Sweater sleeves pushed up to his elbows, Link sketches with colored pencils possible seasonal arrangements for festivities at the end of the year, still a little far, but better safe than sorry. The leaves outside have just turned golden and are slowly falling to the ground, but they have to place orders and all the bureaucracy that’s actually performed by Ilia. He’s good with the flowers and clients, but doesn’t know how to make a good deal to save his life. 

His sketchbook is filled with poinsettias, common and favored for this particular celebration, but he doesn’t see much appeal in them, personally, aside from the usual vibrant red. He can achieve the same red and green theme with more interesting flowers, thank you very much. Just last year, he’d made an arrangement out of tulips; anyone that came looking for poinsettias left them on the shelves while they still had tulips in stock. Link will have to come up with something new this year. 

“I did not know you draw.” 

Link jolts, stool rocking dangerously backwards until he steadies himself by gripping the edge of the counter. His heart is beating fast, both from the scare and from the sight of her across from him, apologetic smile in place. 

“Apologies.” He wants to say he doesn’t mind being startled and nearly falling, but only if it’s her doing it. “I called you a few times but you were very focused.” 

He clears his throat, aware of the blush blazing his cheeks. “Ah, yeah, I tend to do that, sorry.” Should he push the sketchbook closer to her? He settles for turning it around and she’s content to look at it from a distance. 

“Not only talented with flowers, I see.”  There’s warmth in her voice and he wants to bask in it. “Art student?”

“Yes, I’ve always liked drawing.” 

“I used to paint a long time ago, oil on canvas.” She traces one of the lines with a nail - painted peach - carefully. He slots that little bit of information away on his Mystery Woman file. “I am looking for another arrangement, though. What do you have for me today?” 

_ Everything, if you want _ . She can even take the little cacti by the cash register that he loves if she so wants, he will gladly place the little clay vase in her hands and see her out the door. It’s stupid how infatuated he is with someone he doesn’t even know, but he was bound to fall hard for someone at some point - it had to be with his richest client, it seems. 

It’s a good thing Hyrule is so vast as it allows for every kind of flower all year long. Living in the capital has its upsides, but it might never compare to Ordon and its flowery fields. And so he presents her with a burst of yellow, sunflowers, roses, soft yellow orchids and mini green hydrangeas, perfect for warming up a home now that winter is approaching, and he tells her so. She agrees. 

The two hundred rupee bills in his hand are now a familiar weight and he watches her, hair billowing once she opens the door, her coat and over the knee boots nearly blending in one. She looks down at her feet - no, looks down at a dog, a big one, white and gray so dark it could be black, sitting dutifully just outside the shop, peering up at her intently. Her lips barely move and she’s got it standing at full attention, ready to follow her home. 

* * *

Rusl comes to visit them on the fifth of November and brings the first batch of poinsettias, along with Link’s cats, Pumpkin and Cheese, cleverly named after Ordon’s specialties and following his tradition of naming every pet after food. Link owes a lot to Rusl, his uncle and godfather, who raised him from a young age since his parents passed away in an accident. He grew up listening to stories about them, flipping through picture books, which helped him feel closer to his own parents. The only time he ever visits their graves nowadays is when he goes back to Ordon during holidays and he’s planning to bring them two of his best arrangements.

He’s counting down the days until their departure, eager to go back to his hometown. If the weather so permits, he might be able to grab Epona and ride around the fields to his heart’s content. It’s one of the things he misses most about Ordon, along with the fresher air and all the lush trees. Ordona Flowers is his home away from home. 

Two elderly ladies are hovering by the shelf full of poinsettias in an avid discussion about which ones are prettier, sticking to their seasonal tradition and ignoring this year’s special arrangement on display. All of them are unblemished, in perfect condition, but Link knows better than to intrude a passionate argument, so he sticks to the counter, running fingers through Pumpkin’s orange fur as it sleeps on top of his books. It’s a good thing he doesn’t need to do any college work today, because he wouldn’t have the heart to move her when she’s so comfortable. Cheese is occupying the stool, tail flicking back and forth, watching the ladies like they’re a great nuisance. He’s always been a bit moody. Link reaches over to pat his tri-colored fur, earns himself a green eyed glare from below, but keeps patting him until he purrs. 

He looks up when the bell chimes, smiles bright when he sees her entering the shop, gloved hand cupping her pink cheeks once the door closes, car parked outside. It doesn’t look like it’s going to snow this year, but the temperature has dropped drastically in the past weeks. Link doesn’t have much time to observe her outfit of choice for the day, because she’s coming over to the counter with steps so purposeful he swallows. 

She parts her lips, eyes boring into his own, but stops when she notices the cat on the books, letting a soft  _ oh _ a second later when she spots the second one sitting on the stool. “These are new.” 

“My uncle brought them over a few weeks ago.” He watches as she lifts a hand and tentatively runs her fingers on top of Pumpkin’s head. She has a dog, so he understands her hesitation. 

“Where are you from?” She inclines her head to peer down at the cat, Pumpkin purring a little louder. “You have some accent. I have been wondering where I have heard it before.” 

He’s blushing now, he can feel the way it creeps up his neck and across his face. Link scratches the inner side of his wrist to keep from burying his face in his palms. “Ordon. We’ve been here for a few years, so I lost some of the accent.” 

“I see. Ordon is beautiful.” Her hand falls away and her attention is only on him once again. “I need some seasonal arrangements and I see you have one sample already.” 

They both look at the glass vase on the other side of the counter, cherry red petals mingled with white ones and tones in between, dahlias, roses, amaranthus, dusty miller for that frosty hint of winter and eucalyptus leaves for a touch of green. Not a cheap arrangement by any means; maybe that’s why the elderly ladies ignored it, and maybe Link is too used to  _ her _ tastes and goes overboard most of the time.

“I need five of them.” 

That’s... That’s going to cost a lot. He shouldn’t be surprised by now, but hides it anyway and ducks into the cooler in the back to retrieve five, and finally understands why the ladies have been standing there for half an hour as he looks through equally perfect arrangements trying to find the best of the best. Another woman takes the first two he sets on the counter, and he bites his tongue to keep quiet when she pins him in place with her severe expression, lips pressed in a tight line. Link feels like she’s assessing him and deciding if he’s a threat to national security. Scary Lady places them in the car with the help of the driver, Mystery Woman looks through the other potted plants and he fetches the last three to keep his hands from shaking. 

When all the arrangements are stored away in the car, she comes up to him with a vase of poinsettias and an apologetic smile. “Forgive me if Ashei startled you. She’s my bodyguard for a reason.” 

He only nods dumbly and runs his fingers through Cheese’s fur. Oil painting when younger, a dog, a bodyguard, her own driver and endless fancy clothes; it’s all he knows about her. “Don’t worry about it.” He taps at the calculator to sum everything up and turns it around for her to see. 

Wallet already in hand, she seems to consider her options of cards, which he assumes are many. “Do you take credit or debit?”

“Both, actually.”

A black card is set onto the counter. “Debit, then.” 

Link licks his lips and steals a quick glance at the card -  _ Z. Nohansen _ \- before quickly setting everything up and letting her type away the password, setting his gaze on the elderly ladies still bickering until the machine beeps in his hand. He gives her the receipt and the card, something a little like lightning shooting up his arm when their fingers brush for the briefest of seconds. 

“Thank you again for shopping with us, Miss Nohansen.” 

She starts, freezes, and slowly smiles back at him. “Of course. Happy Holidays, Mister Link.” 

Poinsettias in her arm like the most precious cargo, Miss Nohansen leaves the shop and slips into the car, bodyguard close behind, and it pulls away as soon as the door closes behind them. Link leans his chin onto his hand and braces his weight on the corner, caressing Pumpkin idly and watching the vacant spot on the street with hearts in his eyes. 

* * *

Bo actually chokes on his soup when Link tells them the news. Ilia’s got a startled expression on her face, but it’s been there long before her father put that piece of steak in his mouth. She’s standing from the chair and thumping his back until he stops coughing, and Link runs his toes along Cheese’s side where he’s sprawled by his feet beneath the table. 

What is so amusing about Miss Nohansen that got that out of them? 

Finally, Bo sucks in a deep breath through his teeth and gulps down some water, eyelashes bright with tears. Ilia slumps on her chair, head tilted back, eyes to the ceiling, doing the best impersonation of a gaping fish Link’s ever seen. It stays quiet for several seconds that feel like hours until Bo recollects himself and Ilia pierces Link with her fiercest, most disbelieving stare she saves only for when he’s being particularly dense. He squirms and tries not to shrink, pokes at his vegetables to relieve some tension. 

“You said the name on the card was Z. Nohansen?” 

Link turns his eyes to Bo and nods mutely. 

“Sweet Goddess Hylia,” the man whispers, hands a dead weight on his lap, eyebrows inching closer and closer to his actual non-existent hairline. “Link, doesn’t the name ring a bell to you?” 

He frowns, crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “No, it doesn’t.” 

“You are unbelievable.” Ilia throws her hands up with an exasperated groan. “Really, Link?” 

“Well, if you’d tell me who she is instead of making me feel stupid,” he bites back and leaves it at that, slumping back on his chair.

Ilia sighs and nods, realizing their mistake, and pats her father on the shoulder so he can explain everything. “That’s Zelda Nohansen, son.” 

“And what about it?”

“Link,” Ilia presses her palms to the table, “Zelda Nohansen. You know, from the long lineage of the Royal Family of Hyrule? Hyrule’s Princess? Not that they rule anymore since the council has been established many years ago, but yeah, she’s royalty.” 

Oh.

“Zelda Nohansen has been going to our shop for weeks and we didn’t even know.” 

Ilia launches into retelling the Royal Family’s history, ever the perfect picture of a history major, as Bo resumes eating, but Link only listens to it with half a ear, poking at his food, mood dampened. The conversation dies down and he helps clean up, scrubs the dishes with so much apathy to his movements that Bo tells him to rest and takes his place instead.

He had known from the start that Zelda was out of his reach, that she would never be more than a crush. Although distant, she didn’t seem like the kind to be snob, even with so much money in her bank account, and he dared himself to daydream of holding her hand and tucking her hair behind her ear. It was a nice thought, accompanied by a wave of warmth and hope that she’d find his simplicity endearing. Link never cared for brands and expensive things, and if she was okay with getting more flowers than ever as gifts, then they could work.

But she’s not just mysterious acquaintance with lots of bills in her wallet, is she? Not only is the financial gap between them so big it looks more like a chasm at this point, she’s a princess too, an actual one, blue blood and all that jazz used to describe royalty. 

Lying in bed with arms folded beneath his head and staring at the ceiling, Link realizes he never stood a chance. 


	2. from winter sun to summer snow

They close down the shop for three weeks to enjoy the holidays, pack up some bags and drive the long distance to Ordon, shedding pieces of winter gear the closer to South they get. Pumpkin and Cheese nap the trip away inside their carrier, and Link doodles in the backseat as Bo and Ilia talk, sometimes trying to rope him in their conversation of best pies to serve for dinner, but he doesn’t reply with anything substantial. Still sullen, he keeps to himself, chalks it up as worry for the plants at the shop they couldn’t sell or give away in time. 

Ordon is bright and sunny when they arrive, one of the few rare small, rural towns that still exist in Hyrule after its growth spurt a century or so ago. They go further than downtown, until asphalt gives way to gravel and then dirt, and they’re driving towards to the ranch passing pumpkin patches and endless fields of sunflowers. Before the car comes to a stop, the children propped on the fence run to their meeting. The cats are freed to explore the familiar place and rounds of hugs are given. Rusl pats his back heartily and Colin takes him by the hand to visit his mom and sister, born few weeks ago. 

Link lets the fresh air fill his lungs and spends most of his days away from paper and pencil, down on the barn feeding goats and chickens, playing with the kids and Ilia by the stream, riding Epona and brushing her lucious white mane every evening. They camp out once and count stars at night, lying on blankets across the field until the kids fall asleep one by one. It’s relaxing, it’s good to catch a break and be back.

A part of him is still stuck in the capital, though, trying to compare the shade of her eyes to anything that can be found in nature and sacrificing his mobile data to search her name online before bed. He feels a bit like a creep, but he worries. Link just wants to get to know Zelda, not Princess Zelda, but it’s convenient that she’s a public figure and pressing the refresh button puts his nerves at ease knowing that nothing major happened to her. She’s seen walking down streets and doing mundane things, but the tabloids never mention illnesses and extreme situations like assassination attempts. 

He makes sure she’s safe and puts his phone aside. There’s a lot to read about her online, but he likes having these little facts granted to him by Zelda herself, and he can’t quite forget how she stalled when he called her Miss Nohansen the last time they met. Chances are he used to be the only person in the Capital not to recognize her and bow at her feet. 

If that makes her feel comfortable around him, well, he can’t complain. 

* * *

Link tries to salvage some of the withering plants when they make it back to the Capital, moves them upstairs to the apartment and the spot by the living room window is crowded with them. It snowed some in their absence, but not enough to become a hindrance. Still, it’s freezing outside and he has to keep the heater at a decent temperature for the sake of the flowers. 

Pumpkin and Cheese are curled up by the display windows to catch some sunlight whilst he goes into the stockroom, pen and paper in hand to write a list of supplies that need to be ordered. There’s still a month left before Valentine’s Day, but they need to prepare in advance and place orders fairly early so they won’t be left hanging for one reason or another. Link can already picture the cooler with seventy-five percent of its capacity occupied by red roses which will be gone long before the day is over. 

He’s rewriting the list in a handwriting that Ilia can actually read - he  _ is _ an art student, but when he writes quickly, his handwriting is no better than a chicken scratch - when the bell chimes again and he lifts his head to see a girl by the entrance. She’s young, ten to twelve years old, with golden blonde hair tied up in pigtails and a puffy dress made of rich fabric, and he’s not entirely surprised by that. She picks her way closer to Pumpkin, now watching the little girl, tail flicking back and forth. 

The girl’s not alone and for a moment he doesn’t know what to do when he sees Zelda standing there. Link takes hold of his unease before she can sense it, kicks away the idiotic urge to incline his head and decides to stick to casual. It’s probably the only break she has from her daily life as princess, and he wants her to know that he won’t treat her differently because of titles and bloodlines. 

Outside, the car is parked and Ashei waits with the massive dog on the sidewalk. “Good morning, Miss Nohansen.” He walks around the counter in her direction, wiping his palms on his apron. “Came accompanied today I see.” 

She glances back at the girl now petting the cat’s ginger fur. “Good morning. Agitha wanted to meet the man that makes beautiful bouquets.” 

His cheeks heat up instantly at her words. Link chuckles, rubs the nape of his neck self-consciously. “Is she a relative?” 

“She is my little sister, yes.” Zelda turns her sights back on him and he realizes that treating her like a civilian is just about the best choice he’s made this past month, even better than having a third serving of his favorite dessert on Hylia’s Grace Day back in Ordon. “I came here to give you this, too.” 

It’s the first time he notices she has something in her hands, a box wrapped in the finest paper he’s seen in his entire life, probably. “I- You- You shouldn’t have, Miss Nohansen.” Besides, he didn’t get anything for her in exchange. 

“Nonsense,” she pushes it closer, urges him to open it with a cocked brow. “It is a gift for being so attentive and for making wonderful floral arrangements.” 

His entire face is flushed crimson, he thinks and takes the box with a slight dip of his head and a murmured thank you, retreating to the counter to peel the wrapping delicately, the paper so beautiful he doesn’t want to ruin it. Agitha seems entertained with Pumpkin, her giggles the only sound coming from her, and Zelda watches from a distance, hands neatly folded before her like the princess she is. 

Link exhales through his nose before pushing the paper aside, blinks at the content. It’s a wooden case, but much more than that, fingers tracing the logo on the top lid almost reverently. He shoots her a quick glance over his shoulder and the confirmation comes in the form of a silent nod. Limbs nearly shaking, he fumbles with the latch and opens the case, eyes going bright at the rows of colorful soft pastels inside. It’s a kit he’s only seen in his wildest dreams and spent countless hours sighing in front of his laptop, cheek in hand like a lovesick teenager, wishing for something very few people can afford. 

Zelda is one of them and she’s giving it to him.

He’d been planning on returning the gift even after opening it, but now that he’s touched it, Link doesn’t want to let go anymore. Still, he breathes heavily and tries to put up a fight, but before he even says anything, he can see that she won’t be having none of it. “Let me - Let me at least give you an arrangement, then. On the house.” 

There’s a silent understanding between them that no one will leave empty handed, so she concedes with that. 

Sadly for Link, the cooler room isn’t as packed as it used to be before the holidays, so he makes do with orange roses and sunflowers they brought from Ordon, pairing them together with some simple greens, throws in a few leftover mini hydrangeas that survived their break and don’t look so bad. He assembles everything on the counter, Zelda’s studious gaze taking note of how he shuffles flowers around until they’re a bouquet and not just a bunch of flowers thrown together carelessly, finishes it off his tissue paper and a pretty ribbon.

Agitha comes up to the counter and sets two little clay pots of succulents by the neglected list of supplies as he’s passing the arrangement to Zelda. “No, no, you don’t need to pay for that.” He says when she reaches for her purse, leaning on the counter to give her sister his brightest smile. “These are a gift for you.” 

She beams up at him and gathers the pots close to her chest. “Thank you, Mister Link. My little bugs are going to love them!” 

Link straightens up and sets a hand on the soft pastel case, turning his eyes back to Zelda. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for this.” 

“You don’t need to,” she says, and seeing her smile never fails to make him feel things. “I want to support your career as an artist.” 

He’s a still a little numb long after she’s gone, another car in her usual parking spot, no massive dog out front to put his cats on edge, scratching lines with the pastels and turning them over in his fingers like precious gemstones.

* * *

“You did well today, Link.”

He grunts from where he’s got his face planted on the counter. “Please, leave me to die.” 

“You became too dramatic since you joined college.” Bo chuckles loudly and squeezes his shoulder as he passes the slumped form of a tired art student. “Ilia will be here in around an hour. I’ll head upstairs and prepare dinner.” 

Link waves him off, or tries to, but all his fingers do is twitch pathetically by his side, arms hanging like lead. The rush of Valentine’s Day is over and it’s a little past their usual closing time, but they keep the doors open for a while longer to save some poor forgetful person’s relationship, and believe him, they come in flocks around eight in the evening when they have to go pick their partners before dinner. 

Between waking up early in the morning for his classes and surviving the torrent of customers that showed up today, Link is ready to fall asleep as soon as his head touches the pillow. He can’t remember the last time he drank water or had something to eat either, trying to recall if he had lunch before showing up at the flower shop to take Ilia’s place and failing miserably, and his stomach chooses this moment to remind him that he’s starving. Wrapping his arms loosely around himself, Link groans into the polished wood of the counter and considers calling Ilia to tell her to hurry up home already. 

If he sees one more red rose today, he’s going to snap.

Link picks himself up and cracks his knuckles just as the door opens, mentally preparing himself for another bouquet. Goddesses, his hands hurt so much, he can only hope they’ll be better by tomorrow for classes. He smiles when he sees Zelda, keeps it in place when he spots the man behind her even as his stomach sinks into a frozen lake. An unfairly handsome man with glimmering red eyes, long blonde hair in a braid, bangs framing his sharp face, wearing a dark blue winter suit that compliments her crimson outfit rather well.

His heart plummets to his stomach.

“Hello, Mister Link.” Zelda looks every bit like the princess she is with her hair done intricately and makeup on her face. He wouldn't go as far as to say she's irecognizable, but she does look very different from her usual self. The nameless man walks to the floral refrigerator soundlessly.

Link reinforces the strength behind his smile. “Good evening, Miss Nohansen. Happy Valentine's day.”

“Happy Valentine's day to you, too.” She sets something on the counter. “I figured you would be hungry after your shift.”

Two tall plastic cups in a holder, three paper bags plus a box of pastries, all stylized with a rose gold logo Link doesn't recognize, but the name in fancy cursive pokes at something in his mind. He blinks owlishly, trying to connect the name to a place, but nothing comes to him right away. Zelda is smiling softly at him when he looks up again.

“Thank you, Miss Nohansen. You're very kind.”

She brushes it off with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I hope you find them to your liking.”

Oh, he will like this, all right. She could literally give him the blandest, bitterest coffee and he'd drink it with gusto and would even have seconds. Link lifts a cup up and checks the scribbles on the side - decaf vanilla latte addressed for him - and takes a sip. It's rich, creamy and warm, and it melts him on the spot. He sneaks a hand inside one of the bags when she urges him to eat, takes out a buttery bread with some cheese filling that's absolutely divine. Zelda's smile only grows as she watches him savor it.

Before he can thank her again, her companion steps up the counter, his voice as smooth as his hair. “Could you make me a custom bouquet, please?” 

Link blinks at him. “Sure, of course.” 

“Something with shades of red and purple,” Zelda says, and they both look at her. “I think she will like it best.” 

Oh, so this man isn’t her... Boyfriend or anything? Link quickly nods and disappears into the cooler to get to work, steering away from boring red roses, gathering up in his arms some orchids, lilies and some pinkish orange roses he had been saving for the next arrangement commissioned by Zelda. He can make it up to her later, he figures as he arranges everything in a rather large bouquet and wraps it up with beautifully. 

Zelda runs a delicate finger over the violet petals of the orchid as her companion takes his wallet from his pocket and pays Link enough for the arrangement and more. He tries to return some of it, but the man brushes him off and offers his arm to Zelda, who loops hers through his, dainty hand resting over his forearm. 

After they’re gone, Link sinks on the stool and rests his face in his arms. Boyfriend or not, Zelda will never like him back. Being just her friend isn’t bad, of course, but the little jerk of his heart whenever she walks in steals his breath for a moment and this can’t keep happening.

Ilia arrives some time later, a stack of books from the library in hand that she dumps on the counter as he’s locking up the shop. She’s unwinding her scarf from around her neck, complaining about the cold, when she pauses and reaches a hand for the box of pastries. “Link,” Ilia edges up the lid with a fingertip as if she expects to find a time bomb inside. “Who brought these?”

“Um?” He looks over his shoulder, broom in hand. “Oh, Zelda came by today.” 

She lets out a murmured  _ holy shit _ and opens the box further. “Goddesses, Link.” He wanders closer to peer at the sweets, all delicately shaped and decorated with fruits that definitely aren’t in season, dusted with powdered sugar or covered in luscious milk chocolate. “Each of these costs a small fortune.” 

* * *

A few days later and Link is hunched over the counter, armed with his pastels and a big sheet of paper, filling in the faded lines and coloring the landscape scenery of choice for one of his classes. It’s a picture he took himself of the ranch back in Ordon with its colored roof tiles, a well lived place. Their horses can be seen in the distance and the kids are running down a slope in his direction, hair wild and arms up. 

It makes him homesick for a place he visited not so long ago. 

Link sets the soft pastel back in its place and runs his fingers over them fondly. They’re all he expected of the brand and more, wonderful to work with  and nothing like the cheaper kinds he bought before. Granted he doesn’t know how to use them well, but it’s nothing that practice and some videos on the internet can’t help him. 

He walks into the back room to make some tea, looking through the boxes piled clumsily on the cabinet as the water boils on the stove. He finds one done by Uli, a nice sweet blend of red fruits and flowers, and drops the bag into a mug, cartoon dogs and cats running around its bottom. Talking about cats, he wonders where Cheese and Pumpkin have hidden themselves after he shooed them away from the counter. Pumpkin won’t resent him, but Cheese will need some bribery before he looks him in the eye again. Link makes a mental note to text Bo asking for cat treats and walks back into the shop.

Tea still hot, he makes to take a sip and ends up burning his tongue and throat instead, clamping his lips tightly shut to keep the pained noise to himself. His eyes tear up, but at least he doesn’t make a fool of himself. Link sets the cup down on the counter quietly before he can drop the contents all over himself and approaches the ladies playing with Pumpkin, the cat sprawled on an empty shelf he’d been meaning to fill with potted plants. 

Zelda and a friend, both dressed in gym clothes, the most casual he’s ever seen her. Her friend has ginger hair, the fiery kind, tied up in a ponytail to match. He can hear Pumpkin purring from a distance and looks around for Cheese, finding the cat peering up at him from beneath a low stool and behind some creeping inch plant. 

“Oh, hello, Mr. Link.” Zelda smiles at him, cheeks rosy from exertion, probably. It makes her glow.

“Hello, Miss Nohansen.” It’s impossible not to smile at her. Her friend cradles Pumpkin in her arms and turns to him.

“You have a lovely cat right here, Link,” she says, fingers lost among Pumpkin’s fur. “I’m Midna, by the way, Zelda’s best friend in this entire world.” 

Zelda’s eyes glance heavenwards, a fond gesture. “We have been friends since we were children.”

Midna nods along to what she says, lets Pumpkin jump back to the ground when she starts squirming. “She told me you were the one that made that lovely bouquet from the Valentines Gala. Can I see more of your work?” 

With an affirmative, he motions her to the refrigerator, mentions that he can make something personalized with the flowers she likes most, and steps aside to let them peruse the arrangements on display. Leaning on the counter, Link reaches over to idly pet Cheese when he emerges from his hiding spot and muses on the new tidbit of information.

Valentines Gala, uh? So that had been the reason why Zelda had been so dressed up. His life has been so busy that he hardly has time to keep up with the news, opting to know what matters most from Ilia and Bo, and he makes it a point not to look her up on the internet now that he’s back in the Capital, so really, he isn’t all that surprised he missed such a big event when he didn’t even know Zelda was a princess when she first walked in. 

“You’re so lucky, Zelda. Taking Sheik with you to the Gala,” Midna comments, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. “I wish I had a cousin to take with me to parties to avoid the usual stream of suitors. They can get so annoying.” 

Zelda laughs gently and tilts her head to look at her friend. “Why don’t you ask Zant?” 

Midna makes a noise. “Um, Zant as my escort so he can embarrass me in public? No, thanks. I love my cousin, but no.”

Link straightens up. Wait, so, that unfairly handsome guy that had come that day with Zelda is actually her cousin? A cousin she took with her so other men wouldn’t try to ask her to be their girlfriend and start courting her? Wow. His heart feels lighter just hearing about it, though he feels a little guilty for that, too. If Zelda did that, it’s because she’s not looking for a relationship, or so he thinks, so this won’t change anything. He really ought to stop getting his hopes up for having his crush reciprocated. It’s not like Zelda owns him anything, especially when she’s leaving some wealthy tips. If anything, he owes her.

Secondly, Midna and suitors? Is she a princess too? Link squints his eyes and stares at the back of her head, but nothing rings a bell. He didn’t recognize Zelda and she’s the Princess of Hyrule, so how is he supposed to recognize a princess from another country? Ilia must know something, so he can ask her about it later on. For now, he smiles at her and ducks into the cooler room to gather dahlias, proteas, cockscombs and roses. The mix of oranges, pinks and deep magenta seems to fit Midna, who chats with Zelda by the succulents and cacti shelves as he wraps up her bouquet. 

In the end, Midna leaves with the arrangement and some cacti. “They don’t need much water, so they’re easy to take care of,” she says with a grin and wink, then turns to blow kisses at where Cheese is curled under another stool. 

Zelda pays for the equivalent of the three succulents for her sister and a bouquet she isn’t taking home. She smiles as she tucks the card into a hidden pocket of her outfit and gathers the cardboard box of small clay vases, only now catching sight of his forgotten artwork. “You really have a way with pastels,” her grin is bright and wide, and he feels blinded. “I’m glad to know they’re being useful.” 

With that, she bids goodbye and turns to Midna, both resuming their previous conversation as they head for the door. He watches them walk away, Midna pushing the door open to let Zelda pass, and he darts away just as she releases the door to let it swing back into place. Link rushes to the floral refrigerator and yanks the door open, wide and wild eyes roaming over the flowers until he finds a good one and plucks it from the arrangement. The princesses are a short distance away when he makes it to the sidewalk, waiting to cross the street, and they turn as he calls for Zelda.

She looks surprised, even more so when he lifts a single pale pink peony. He’s flushed in the face, both from the jog and the stares they attract. Link knows he needs to get it over with before anyone recognizes her and someone decides to snap pictures and post them online, so he tucks it gently between a hobbit jade and perforata sitting in the box. 

“For you,” he says, mumbles really, flits his eyes between them and quickly retreats to the shop. His steps are brisk and he feels eyes following him, but he can’t find the courage to look back and see if she’s watching him, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't know where I'm going with this tbh, but I'm loving this AU! Also, I haven't really worked on Antumbra for some time - which I should be doing, because I'm excited for the last chapter.
> 
> This chapter was brought to you by me crying over the expensive soft pastels I had to buy for uni, plus me crying because working with them is messy.


	3. good things come to those who wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI sorry for the delay. I usually like to post stuff when I have the next chapter complete, or at least part of it, but I haven't updated in a while, so I chose to do it now. Good news is, I know what to do with this fic now, so it should be easier.
> 
> Enjoy!

The next time Zelda contacts him, nearly a month has passed.

It's one of the few rare Saturdays when Link and Ilia don't have too much homework and they can run the shop together with the help of her father. Bo takes charge of the cash register as they prepare arrangements and tend to customers. Just the right amount of people come to the shop, and in between clients Link busies himself with doodling his cats with a new ink pen he bought. 

Pumpkin and Cheese attract people inside, mostly those with kids that try to pet them, but only Pumpkin likes the attention. The children crowd around her, smaller hands ruffling her ginger fur, and Ilia and Link try to woo their parents or guardians with potted plants and pretty, colorful bouquets. 

“We should've brought the cats from Ordon with us when we first moved,” Bo comments, scratching Cheese under the chin. “They're good for the business.”

The cat is reluctant to melt under the petting, frowning up moodily at Bo, and then at Ilia when she props herself on the counter and reaches over. “I can make them clothes to match our aprons.” Pumpkin jumps onto the counter, stepping all over Link's doodles to catch his attention and earn scratches as well. Ilia grins and reaches for her, laughing when Pumpkin starts purring almost immediately. “Wouldn't you like that, girl?”

“She may go with it, but I doubt he will.” Link cocks his head at Cheese, who is just now closing his eyes to enjoy the pets, seemingly reluctant still. 

“He doesn't get a say in it,” Ilia sniffs and points at the sketchbook, and Link slides it across the counter. She turns to a new page to sketch the little aprons when the bell chimes to announce the arrival of a new customer.

Link turns his attention to the door, pushing away from the counter and faltering when he sees Ashei's usual stern face. Dressed in a pressed suit, she looks like the main character of an action movie, maybe a hitman, the volume of a holster by her hip only reinforcing the image. By the counter, Ilia and Bo shift with her entrance, and Link himself almost fidgets under her stare.

“Miss Ashei, right?”

“And you are Mr. Link.” Her voice is smooth and deep - and flat. “I have come with a request from Princess Zelda Nohansen of the Royal Family of Hyrule.”

Link straightens his spine at the mention of her full title. It's the first time someone outside their little family acknowledges the fact that she's a princess, and coming from Ashei, he’s almost afraid to know what it entails. He approaches her, releasing the fabric of his apron he’d been twisting in an anxious gesture to take the envelope Ashei is holding out. The paper is thick and textured, closed with a red wax seal and his name written in deep purple in what he assumes to be Zelda’s neat handwriting.

Ashei clasps her hands behind her back and watches intently as he stares at it for a moment, like he’s never seen a piece of paper before. Fumbling, he breaks the seal and opens the flap, catching the letter inside between two fingers. The paper is just as rich and he unfolds it with unsteady hands, reading and rereading its contents before looking up at Ashei in stunned silence.

“Any questions?” 

“No - I don’t think so, no.” Link feebly lifts up the letter and envelope. “I - thank you for bringing me this. And for the opportunity.”

He thinks Ashei smiles at him for a split second, but he can’t be sure. “You can thank Her Highness in person.” Nodding at him, and both father and daughter standing like stiff statues by the counter, Ashei takes her leave and disappears inside the same black car Zelda has ridden with her before.

Silence falls in the flower shop as they watch the car pull away and blend into the traffic, and then it all explodes into chaos. Bo can’t seem to be able to form a coherent sentence, stuttering and tripping over his words, and Ilia is shooting him a million questions per minute, leaning over the countertop like she can read the letter from that distance. 

Link walks back to them and sets Zelda’s message on the counter, mechanically turning to slip onto a stool and stare unseeingly at the discarded doodles of cat aprons. Bo takes the letter before Ilia can, bringing it close to his face and squinting, his reading glasses probably lying forgotten somewhere upstairs. 

“Dear Mr. Link,” he reads aloud. Link can see Ilia chewing on her nail from his peripheral vision. “April is coming up, and as you likely already know, with it comes my birthday. It is a big celebration attended by delegates and Royal Families from many countries that are our allies, as well as important families from Hyrule, and we pride ourselves for offering them only the best in these kinds of situations. That being said, I would like to request -  _ oh _ .”

“Ugh, give me that.” Ilia snatches the letter out of her dad’s limp hand, the man now stunned into silence too. “That being said, I would like to request that Ordona Flowers is to be responsible for the flower arrangements -  _ are you kidding me right now! _ ”

Link makes a vague gesture, still focused on the blurry image of cartoon cats wearing deep green aprons. “There’s more.” 

“Your arrangements are absolutely divine and I am quite sure my guests will find them lovely as well.” Ilia goes on, gripping the paper with both hands, wide eyes following along the fluid handwriting. “Of course, you are free to decline if you so wish. If you do agree, you will be paid handsomely, and you and your friends will be invited to attend to the party as well. Please contact my personal assistant as soon as you can to let us know what you have decided. His personal contact is written on the back of the letter. My best regards-” 

“Princess Zelda Nohansen of the Royal Family of Hyrule.” All three of them say as one, silence following their words.

Link doesn’t know how long he sits there just - speechless. It’s an opportunity of a lifetime, presented to them on a silver platter. For some reason Zelda visited their little shop one day, and keeps coming back, and likes what they do so much that she thinks it’s worthy _ of displaying it in Hyrule Castle _ for  _ her birthday party _ . If they agree, they will surely have more clients, but above all else, it’s an honor to be picked by the  _ Princess of Hyrule _ herself. 

He can hardly believe this is happening. It was hard already to wrap his mind around the fact that Zelda likes him enough to leave good tips and gift him on occasion, but this... He has no words. 

“Holy shit,” Ilia says softly, but with feeling. “What are we gonna do?” 

Both she and Link look at Bo as he reaches for the discarded letter, turning it around to look at the phone number and email written in the same elegant cursive. “Well, Link.” He sets it down and pushes it in his direction. “Your call.” 

Link looks at the paper like it might change his life forever. And it probably will.

* * *

 

The taxi stops just outside the gates of Hyrule Castle. Link looks at its looming figure from within the car before hastily fishing out his wallet to pay the drive. The middle aged man is kind enough to smile at him and, noticing Link’s nervousness but unaware of the situation, wishes him good luck before Link climbs out. 

He stands there for a long while, sun burning his scalp and back, phone clutched tightly in hand as he stares through the fenced gate at the neatly trimmed bushes and lush grass and the white building beyond it. Ilia spent hours talking her head off about the history of Hyrule Castle and how Castle Town became Hyrule Capital, and by the end of it Link had a feeling he was as well versed in history as she is. Some people stand to the side snapping pictures of the building before moving along.

Link startles when he realizes two guards in fancy clothes are staring hard at him. Quickly, he whips out his phone and opens the last text sent to him by Mr. Shad, as he had requested to be called, and fired a quick reply that he arrived. Fighting not to squirm under the guard’s intent gazes, Link settles for watching the flow of cars moving along the street. 

Few minutes later and the gates open slowly, a man standing on the other side, copper hair brushed back and glinting under the sun. Somehow he makes the combination of dark purple blazer and khaki pants work, and though Link dressed in the best clothes he owns and tried to tame his mane of hair, he still feels poorly underdressed near him. 

The man, who he assumes to be Mr. Shad, pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose and extends a hand once Link is within reach. “It is finally a pleasure to meet you in person, Mr. Link. I have seen some of your arrangements and they are a delight.”

“Hi - um - thank you.” 

Shad gives him a smile that is as encouraging as it is warm and walks him along the path to the tall front doors. “You will get to see the ballroom soon, but I will give you a brief overview.” The tablet he brings into view is thinner than Link’s pinky finger and worth more than his outfit, probably. “As Her Highness said, it is a big celebration. Colossal, if you will. As you know, the Hyrule Council has over six hundred members, more precisely six hundred twenty-three. Foreign families and dignitaries attend to the party as well, making the total number of guests eight hundred fifty nine people. Eight hundred seventy if you include the Royal Family of Hyrule.”

Link nearly chokes on his own spit; from the number of guests or from seeing the entrance hall for the first time, he doesn’t know. Shad pauses in his steps and lets Link marvel at the grandiosity of it at his own pace, staring at large crystal chandeliers and heavy, cherry colored drapes, wide eyed, mouth hanging open. He can see his own reflection on the polished white floor, large paintings decorating the walls. It’s too much to take in and they need to get going, so he trips and stumbles as he follows Shad and tries to commit this place to memory. It would make a beautiful painting.

“The total number of tables is eighty seven, as we set them to accommodate ten people each. We will need eighty seven centerpieces, not too small so they will not be overlooked, but not too tall either as to not get in the way. I can provide you with pictures and measurements of past arrangements to make it easier for you.” 

Shad rambles on, checking things off on his tablet with a stylus, and Link shamefully admits to himself he is hardly listening. He wants to stop at every window to catch a glimpse of the courtyards, wants to stop to observe every vase and painting and embroidered tapestry. And to think his bouquets were in display somewhere in the castle. 

“We will need larger arrangements to decorate the room, and smaller bouquets to be taken home by each family as a complimentary gift for attending. This year’s color is cherry red. I will be sure to send all details to you in an email. Of course, you can bring coworkers the next time you visit.” They pause outside a set of double doors. Link’s heartbeat is thrumming in his ears. Shad hums at his tablet. “Before we go in, I need to have your picture taken, Mr. Link.”

“M-My picture? What for?”

“Security measures,” Shad says and he doesn’t need to explain himself further. Link flashes him a tremulous smile and waits as he sends it off to someone. “Very well. Shall we?”

The ballroom is - massive. Link stays by the threshold even as Shad strides further into the room, gesturing to certain areas and explaining the general idea for this year’s decoration. Dread settles deep in Link’s bones, his stomach churning unpleasantly. This will be one hell of a challenge. He’s already trying to calculate how many flowers they will have to order for this occasion and oh, they’re a too small busines to handle this. They’re a three-people staff, they will need extra help. 

Link eventually follows Shad around. The man shows him on his tablet the usual placement of tables and the dancefloor, and to every hesitant question Link asks, Shad answers with confidence and certainty. In a moment of stillness, Link goes over a mental list of flowers that go along well with the color picked for the party, excusing himself as he types the names on his phone. 

Clicking heels reach their ears. Shad reacts first, turning towards the double doors and bowing politely at the waist. “Your Highness.” Link is slower to turn, bending forward so sharply he could lose his balance and plant himself face-first on the floor. 

Zelda stops before them, long braid falling over her shoulder, dressed in pale sea green. Ashei is behind her as usual. “Mr. Shad, Mr. Link. It’s a pleasure to have you here.” 

Link gapes like a Hylian loach out of water and nods.

“If you have any questions or ever need anything, don’t hesitate to contact Mr. Shad.” She smiles kindly and presents him with a card - an ID. “This is for you. This way you will be able to come and go as you wish.” 

He takes it with an unsteady hand, his face printed with his full name and a registration number, the symbol of the Royal Family resting at the bottom of the card. “I- I- uh- thank you, Miss Nohansen.” 

Shad makes a little noise, but whatever it is that bothered him doesn’t seem to affect Zelda. “I only walked by to give you this. An appointment waits for me.” Nodding at them both, she leaves after saying, “We’ll see each other some other time, Mr. Link.”

He’s still staring after her long after she’s disappeared. Shad is watching him, amused. 

“Mr. Link, do you happen to-”

“Please, don’t finish that sentence, Mr. Shad.” 

“As you wish.” And he laughs.

* * *

 

Ilia spends the days that lead up to their group visit spewing facts about Hyrule Castle every single hour. It gets to a point when Bo and Link sigh simultaneously when they’re compiling a list of people they can hire for this task and she inhales sharply before relaying the precise square-meter size of the entrance hall. 

During the visit, she gets much worse with the trivia. Shad accompanies them in the first group visit, leads them through halls and rooms - and joins Ilia in her blabbering about the castle. Though Shad had never mentioned anything, Link can guess he’s got a major in history too, or at least had been planning to go for it before settling into the role as Zelda’s assistant. They’re like two trivia machines, not competing to see who knows more about Hyrule’s history, but sharing common knowledge and trading few new bits of information. 

After the visit, she’s more tired. They all are, spending hours upon hours pulling at their hairs and trying to figure out how to do this. Without saying why he needs the help, Bo contacts some of his friends from the same business branch from the Capital and neighboring cities to see if they’re available, and finds that they have their hands full at the moment. 

They call Rusl as a last resort. The call is brief, he’s busy but agrees to help, promising to be at the Capital within five days. He also sends Link some contacts he can call and arrange to help, all of them good friends of his, but doesn’t elaborate on whether or not he’s talked to them beforehand. Link postpones calling until he can’t ignore this anymore.  

On a Sunday afternoon he decides to take a break, leaves his sketches and art materials on the counter of the flower shop and goes out for a walk. A little fresh air will help him unwind and hopefully boost his creativity. He’s been sketching possible centerpieces for most of the day, testing them out with real flowers, but none of them seem good enough. They aren’t good enough for Zelda.

The park some blocks away is a place he visits often. It’s the biggest in the Capital, equipped with a playground, a dog park, cycling roads and a lake that houses some ducks and geese. The kids from Ordon like feeding the birds whenever they come visit, and Link likes to find a comfortable place in the shade to draw. Were sketching not giving him a big headache right now, Link would’ve brought his things to practice some figure drawing. As it is, he finds a spot on the grass to sit and settles for people-watching. 

Some kids are building a sand castle, while others are fighting over the tools. The parents only step in when things begin to escalate, two children grappling and rolling on the sand, kicking up dust. Other more well behaved kids are playing in the swings. Some bicycles rush past, and people toss frisbees and balls for their dogs to catch. A couple sits close to the lake to feed the ducks, snapping selfies in between handfuls of bird food. 

A blonde girl catches his attention, pigtails bouncing as she rounds the flower patches not too far. Bright green leaves are tucked inside the glass jar in her hands, and she peers down at the colorful blooms with a critical glance. She looks familiar, but Link doesn’t remember where he’s seen her. 

He startles when a big dog approaches him to sniff at his ankles insistently, undoubtedly smelling Pumpkin and Cheese. Link is frozen in place, half fearing for his feet as the dog continues to press its snout into his pants and snorts against the fabric. It’s a large dog, a breed he can’t name. 

“Wolf! Sit!” Obediently, the dog sits back on its hind legs and looks up at Link with bright, docile eyes, tongue lolling to the side in a smile. Link, too, would sit down upon hearing that voice. 

Zelda rushes along the path of the park, hair tied up in a messy bun, dressed in monochromatic gym clothes. She holds a leash in a tight fist and marches in their direction, swooping low to secure the dog before greeting him with a smile. “Hey, Mr. Link.” His lungs release all the air inside them. “Nice day isn’t it?”

“Y-Yeah.” He grips the blades of grass for dear life. Some snap under the pressure. “Out for a walk?”

“Decided to take my good boy Wolf for a walk.” She explains, running a hand along the dog’s dark grey fur. “Also brought my sister to catch some bugs.” 

One eyebrow raises in curiosity. “Bugs.”

Zelda nods, inclining her head towards the blonde girl by the flower patch. “She says she knows all the bugs inside the castle and that she needs more friends.”

Slowly, Link nods. “Ah, yes. The goats back in Ordon used to be my friends, too.” It’s not really a lie; he used to play with them. Ilia and he would spend hours among the animals playing out different, absurd scenarios. Even if she thinks he’s joking, it makes Zelda laugh, so it’s worth it. “I knew all of them by name.”

“Why,” she begins, crouching down beside Wolf. “I didn’t have as many interesting friends in my youth.”

“Really now?” He teases, and she narrows her eyes at him. “No birds? Fairytales dictate that princesses are bird magnets. Also wild animals. No deers or squirrels? Rabbits?”

It startles a laugh out of her, the first he’s ever heard. Not the quiet giggle in response to some of his words, but something rich that comes from deep within her chest. Wolf presses his snout to her face, curious. “No. Thank the heavens I was never cursed or banished from my home and had to live in a small cottage in the woods. As nice and peaceful as that sounds.” 

Smiling, Link scoots away to give her some space to sit, as if there isn’t enough grass around the park for her to claim a spot as her own. Zelda sits down with legs crossed, knees just barely brushing his, and Wolf fits himself in the space between their hips. Link reaches out to pet him tentatively, and the dog makes a soft sound. 

“Do you ever go on vacations?” 

She pauses to ponder, lips pursed. “We have a summer home in Lake Hylia, and one in the famous Termina Bay. If my schedule allows it, I go.” 

Link twists around until he’s facing her. “What is it like to be a princess?”

“Oh, you know,” she makes a vague gesture with her hand. “The council sometimes asks for my input as Crown Princess, but it doesn’t go beyond that though I attend to every meeting. It’s a glamorous life, and all I’m expected to do is show up in events and look pretty.”

“That shouldn’t be hard for you.” It’s only when she’s giggling behind her hand that he realizes what he’s said. Too late to backpedal now or come up with an excuse. Red in the face, Link quickly stammers the first thing that comes to mind to cover up for that slip. “Wha- what events?” 

Zelda, thankfully, smothers down her laugh and reigns her smile to something more composed and less mischievous. “Charities, official parties thrown by the Crown, meetings with important dignitaries.”

He nods along, fighting the urge to shove his face in his hands. “I’ve always wondered... How does the media not bother you? Or others civilians for that matter.”  

She shrugs her shoulders. “Your guess is as good as mine. I believe they know that harassing a member of the Royal Family is the highest offense. No one wants to deal with the consequences.” 

That makes sense. Link quickly drops the topic, not wanting to make her uncomfortable in any way. Picking at the blades of grass, they watch Agitha for a moment, her dress getting caught in the flower stems, loose petals tangled in her hair. She must have a bug on her index finger given the way she’s looking at the tip with so much interest. 

“How are the decorations coming along?” 

Link had been expecting her to ask that, though she doesn’t sound demanding. If anything, her eyes are bright and curious. Is Zelda excited to see what they’re planning? “I was trying out flower combinations earlier. Decided to take a break to clear my head, maybe after I’ll have more luck.” 

She makes a small  _ oh _ , fingers disappearing into Wolf’s dark fur. “No luck so far?”

“Not really? I like the arrangements, but-” he pauses, debating how much he should share. Zelda is the host of the party, and he likes to believe they’ve come to be friends - or something between acquaintances and friends, at least. “I don’t think they’re good enough for you.” 

For  _ you _ , not for  _ your party _ . Not that Link would do a terrible job had anyone else requested their services, but Zelda has always found his bouquets beautiful, had always complimented them, and he doesn’t want to disappoint her, especially not when it comes to her birthday party full of important guests. He’d had considered looking for the most expensive, rarest flowers just for the occasion, but while the flowers themselves are part of what makes an arrangement pretty, the combination and placement are what make it stunning. 

Zelda is quiet for a moment, and Wolf basks in the attention she’s giving him with her fingers, scritching him between the ears. Link watches Agitha again, if only to keep from staring at his shoes, hands still tearing the grass to his right. He doesn’t want to regret sharing with her that much, and doesn’t want her to think any less of him either, but doubt creeps up his chest. Maybe he should have stayed quiet. He had no problems with keeping his mouth shut until she came along. 

“Honestly,” she begins, eyes set ahead but unseeing. He glimpses at her. “I’m still surprised you accepted my offer. I’ve seen many big name florists screaming and crying in frustration to choose just the right shade of the flowers, so I was hesitant. It’s a big event and you’ll need a lot of help.” 

Zelda blinks and tears her eyes away from the horizon, setting her sights on Link instead. He can’t help but flush under her gaze, softly crinkled eyes and gentle smile. The cool shade of blue grey of her irises looks warmer somehow. “But I really love your work, and really wanted your arrangements decorating my party. Others will like it as well, I can feel it. So whatever you decide to do, whichever flowers you decide to use and how, I’m sure you’ll do a marvelous job.” 

Link watches her, perplexed, certain that he looks like a lovestruck fool staring at her right now. His ears are burning up and so are his cheeks, and he ducks his head after a few seconds, pressing his lips together, embarrassed. Zelda doesn’t laugh or giggle. She does reach out for him, though, to pat him on the back, even goes as far to rub small soothing circles in the space between his shoulder blades. It feels nice. Very nice. 

Her hand falls away, and he immediately misses the touch. He peeks at her from the corner of his eyes to see her turning away to greet her approaching sister, smiling at the girl when Agitha shows her glass jar full of bugs.  _ New friends _ , she calls them, pointing at every single one and saying the names they were given. 

Zelda takes the dandelions Agitha offers, seeds waiting to be blown away. “We best get going.” As she says it, Wolf perks his head up and looks at her as if waiting for a command. Link blinks at the white dandelion that fills his vision, an offering from Zelda. “See you some other time, Mr. Link.” 

He takes the flower and watches them leave. Wolf walks obediently at her side, a perfectly trained dog following his owner. Agitha continues to talk about her bugs with wide gestures of her free hand, and Zelda nods at everything she says, listening with rapt attention. 

Link lifts up the dandelion and twirls it between two fingers. When younger, he’d give the dandelions he found to Ilia so she could make a wish. The sight of the seeds drifting in the air always brought a smile to her face, and he was happy to see her enjoying it. He’d never given much thought to dandelions and wishes, never considered if your wishes could actually happen. Ilia never said if any of hers came to fruition, but he figures it doesn’t hurt to give it a try.

Inhaling deeply, Link makes a wish and blows all the seeds off in one breath. He lowers the stem and sits around to watch them float away until he can’t keep track of them anymore, and decides it’s finally time to return to the shop. 

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to [Mari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahreemari/pseuds/mahreemari) for revising this and putting up with me once more!
> 
> come chat with me on [tumblr](https://chinarai.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/chinaraii)! [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/chinarai) is now also an option!


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